


Causing Avalanches

by alicat54c



Series: Butterfly Hurricanes [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, Dean Says Yes, F/M, Gen, M/M, Sam Says Yes, Vessel Dean, but not in the way you would expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicat54c/pseuds/alicat54c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Winchester never thought much about traveling to other planes of existence, that being his sister's expertise more than his. However, when he is summoned by accident to assist a parallel version of his family, he can't say no.</p><p>Or.</p><p>Conservation of energy does not take kindly to a heavenly nuke leaving for another universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

...Ch1  
...

Robert James Winchester was often a source of pity for most of his relatives.

“He cannot fly, for only God’s wrath abides in his being,” the heavenly choirs whisper. 

While the humans say, “Poor kid has the social skills of an angel.”

Jim, for the barer of his first name still lives and calling himself ‘Jimmy’ leaves a sour twist to his parent’s spirits, tries to understand why he deserves his relative’s sorrow.

He is no more diminished than his sister, who is at much more of a disadvantage than he, without a scrap of fang to her grace. With his blade, slightly shorter than a full angels, and his bristling claws, Jim is more equipped than a human to survive a confrontation, and Death could not take him through the wearing of time.

“We are like fire,” Castiel said, when his son sought his council. “God’s love burns as brightly as his wrath. Your mother and sister have souls of water. Their rage is fearsome, yes, but by existing they refresh and soothe. Wings are a source of joy for angels, a gift to fan our hearts when they grow too wild. We must always be on guard, so as not to burn those close to us. You more so than others.”

Usually, Jim felt ambivalently about his supposed nature. However, now, he wished he could naturally bring comfort to those in need.

Mary coughed, clutching her coffee across from him at the kitchen table.

“Are you ok?” Jim’s attention snapped to his sister.

She rolled her eyes nonchalantly, only bringing to light the dark bags beneath and the pale complexion on her sallow face. “‘Course I am, Jim-bob.” She sipped her drink, grimacing when she burnt her tongue. “Can you tell mom that I’ll be out today?”

“You should not be flying. Your grace is weakened.”

“I was going to take the car,” she said defensively.

Jim stared at his sister intently as she shifted. “Would you be willing to do the shopping? Mom has been much distressed by Dad’s condition, and the rest of the garrison has returned to heaven in order to help the rit zien with their investigation.”

“How is that going, by the way?”

“While initially confounded by the existence of a disease which could effect celestial beings, the rit zien have adopted human methodologies of epidemiology in order to discover the plague’s source and a cure.”

Mary sniggered into her cup. “Glad the headless chickens finally started calming down.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, it took most of them falling ill themselves. However, they determined that the plague only causes an angel to be unable to regain their energy. Those who are more conservative in the use of grace have suffered less.”

“Bunch of babies. It’s not any worse than when everyone at Camp Chippewa got mono.”

Jim stirred a spoon in his cereal bowel. “How is Ben handling the influx of cases with half of the forces depleted?”

“He’s pissed he had to put building the Roadhouse on hold. Abner and Gadreel refused to leave when things started to get bad. There was a demonic attack,” her voice stuttered. “Gadreel can’t even fly anymore. His vessel Tamone has had to keep them going.”

“I have seen similar cases. Remiel has not resurfaced in many weeks.”

The nephilim shared a glance, air thick with the unspoken worry over their father, who had been confined to bed indefinitely.

Mary stood to place her dishes in the sink. “I’ll try to give Ben a call later. See if he needs any help setting up warding schemes.”

“Demonic activity has been on the rise to test out defenses,” Jim agreed, as his sister left.

The nephilim continued to eat his cereal, not feeling a need to fill the silence as the only remaining occupant of the kitchen.

A faint hum of electricity reverberated sub-vocally through the air. Jim glanced at the ancient lighting fixtures, making a note to ask Grandpa Henry whether the design specifications of the Bunker were still in existence, and whether they detailed whether the wiring needed to ever be replaced.

He stood to put his bowl in the sink, when a sharp tap to the small of his back knocked his breath away. Whirling around, hands curling into claws, he tried to spot the disturbance’s cause.

A waiver of power, like a sapient mote of light, snaked through the folds of reality. Jim frowned. He made to run towards the door, but the energy lashed out.

He clutched his chest gasping. The tendril of power sank its barbs into his grace, catching, and pulling the unwilling nephilim away.  
...

The space smelled musty and cramped, like old whiskey and paper. Hard floors pressed against Jim’s bare feet, and processed air currents licked against his tanned shin, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.

Three presences shifted into being a few feet away, as his senses re-oriented themselves from the sudden discombobulating tug through the ether. Jim did not have the same instinct his heavenly family harbored for navigating translocations, instead taking after his mother’s physical unease for sudden flights.

“Of course I did the spell right, Dean,” a long suffering voice said, breaking through the high whine which rang through the nephilim’s muffled ears.

“Well, that’s not Mary,” a deeper voice countered.

Jim cracked open his eyes. Souls, familiar save for their lack of scars and experience, shone through two tall male bodies, which looked startlingly familiar. Looming behind them, a pair of chain spun wings ponderously rattled, as the attached angel examined the spell circle’s occupant.

Looking down, Jim puzzled out the chalked in ruins and Enochian syntax which spread out around his feet.

“You used a grace identifier, not a name,” Jim stated. “My sister has been recovering from her travels, so when your summoning reached out, it took the stronger of the only two nephilim on our earth.”

“That was my doing,” the angel, Gadreel, said, as the two hunters cut off mid rant to stare at him. “I felt it unwise to try to speculate Mary’s true name in order to make the spell more keyed to her.”

The nephilim tilted his head. “I see, and since our graces share similar patterns-”

“Not that this isn’t fascinating,” Dean cut in, “But I think we should get to the reason that we called.”

Jim frowned at being interrupted.

The tallest hunter rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him. I’m Sam,” he said, sticking out a hand.

“I am Robert James Winchester,” Jim said, shaking it with mechanical precision. “Please refer to me as Jim.”

“I am Gadreel, and my vessel is Tamone,” the angel said, inclining his head.

Dean’s grin could have relit the sun. “And if you’re Mary’s brother, that means I’m your daddy!”

The nephilim considered the enthusiastic reflection of his mother’s soul, barely contained in the hunter’s body, as it reached out to embrace him.

“I suppose such a comparison could be made,” he agreed, relenting to the soul’s silent wish, and embracing this version of his parent.

Dean floundered, and quickly pushed out of his son’s arms. “Woah, man hugs only!”

Jim tilted his head, unseen multitude of arms still being clutched by the ecstatic hunter’s soul. “I apologize,” he intoned, chalking the man’s discomfort as a strange quirk of this dimension.

“Don’t mention it,” Dean said gruffly. “Right, so we tried to call your sister, because a bunch of angels have been getting their smite on here on earth, and we’re calling in the calvary.”

“While I would normally not be adverse to assisting,” Jim said, “Now was not an ideal time to summon me.”

“Is everything all right?” Sam asked, brows drawn together.

“Demons have been testing the Association of Letter’s defenses. Our forces have been depleted, and, though susceptible to the recent illness plaguing my family, my battle prowess would be a great contributor to our safety.”

“Oh.” The brothers looked sheepish. “Can’t you just fly back?”

“No,” Gadreel and Jim said at the same time.

“I do not have the same abilities as my sister.”

The Winchesters shared another glance.

“Could we...un summon you?” Sam proffered.

Gadreel hummed ponderously. “Such spells exist, however I have no more than a cursory knowledge of them.”

“Guess we’re hitting the books,” Dean sighed. “And until then, Jim, can you help us with our heavenly problem?”

The nephilim considered the logical viability of the proposition, and nodded. “Of course, you are family.”  
...

The summoning had taken place in an abandoned barn, which in another time and place was the location of the first meeting of Dean and the angel Castiel. The barn was not too far from the Singer Salvage Yard, so the hunters and angelic beings managed to travel there by the early evening.

Sam and Dean, exhausted after days of spell preparation and handling supernatural fallout around the country, went to bed immediately.

Jim did not strictly require sleep, so retired to the car strewn yard with Gadreel.

“You are different from how you exist in my home.”

The angel carefully shrugged, as if unsure if he was using the movement correctly. “Mary expressed some similar sentiments when she facilitated my escape from heaven.”

“You were not released here?”

“No.”

Jim let his sixth set of hands brush through the angel’s tattered wings. “I grieve for the injustice wrought upon you.”

The prisoner’s head tilted, unable to comprehend the sentiment. “You are empathetic, and very human, like your sister.”

“Did you know her well when she visited?”

“I hold her and your family more dear than my own.”

“I thank you, but must add that you are amongst our family as well.”

“You bestow upon me great honor. I only hope that my having watched over the Winchesters since your sister’s departure can repay my debt to... our family,” Gadreel said, chains rattling as his wings twitched upwards in pride. 

“You have my thanks again for guarding them,” Jim intoned, inclining his head.

“How are Mary and Ben?”

“Ben returned to his garrison, and was petitioning for funds to build a hunter gathering establishment with questionable recreation facilities. Mary still suffered from depleted grace, last I saw her.”

Gadreel frowned. “Is that not unusual? I would think her strength returned by now.”

Jim shook his head. “A strange malady has fallen upon my celestial family. It is as though their grace, once used, cannot be replenished. I was assisting in an investigation when this Sam and Dean called me.”

“I apologize that my assisting of the Winchesters in summoning you pulled you from your home at such an inopportune time. I would offer to fly you myself, however...” Gadreel’s hobbled wings twitched.

“What is done is done. I will remain here to assist until such a time that I may leave.”

“Has your journey made you feel any ill effects?”

The nephilim clenched and unclenched his fists ponderously. “No. What fatigue that had been creeping upon me in my own home, seems to have vanished.”

“That is good. You must not have brought the disease to this dimension with you.”

Jim frowned. “Perhaps.”  
...

Angels, parallel universes, and super powered kids. Practically enough to drive a man to drink, not that Dean needed much prompting.

Sam had spent the last week talking Jim through the strange string of demonic and seemingly celestial activity. The nephilim had scowled at the unusual regularity of occurrences, and had spread the happenings out on a map to discover a pattern.

Dean had had just about enough of dusty books and lay lines, and had retired from the salvage yard to a bar a few towns over.

He was just breaking through into the warm fuzzy stage of drunkenness, when a dark haired body collapsed onto the stool next to him. The hunter glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, and put down his drink.

“No offense, dude, but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.”

“Was that an offer?” the stranger leered.

Dean sniggered into his beer. “No offense, you’re not my type.”

“Pity,” the stranger dramatically signed. “I’ll still buy you another drink though, just for the pleasure of your company.”

The hunter stared at the stranger, taking in his rumpled tan coat and hazel eyes. Something niggled at the back of his brain, but he kicked it away. Guy didn’t send off his monster sense, and so long as he kept his hands to himself..... free beer.

“Name’s Dean.” He stuck out a hand.

The stranger shook it, mixed eyes dancing. “Cab Calloway.”

“Parents jazz fans?”

“Pen name.” Cab shrugged, flagging down the bar tender. “I write articles about the strange and fantastic for the Weekly World News, and can’t afford to let my identity out, in case the real creepy crawlies get a hold of it.”

“I dabble in the strange a bit myself,” Dean said, downing his whiskey in a single shot.

“Oh really?” Cab said, leaning in. “Do tell!”

The next morning, Sam gets a call from the tiny town’s lone police station.

The tall man started, grumbled, and sighed, before hanging up and turning to his nephew. “We’ve got to bail Dean out of jail. Apparently he was involved in some kind of bar fight?”

Jim blinked twice, then frowned. “Such activities are not professional when on a case.”

“He’s usually not like this,” the other hunter said, shrugging on his jacket.

Luckily the walk to the station was short, and the officers were happy to let Dean out of the drunk tank once Sam broke out the puppy eyes.

“What happened,” the younger Winchester asked in a scolding tone, once the trio was back in their motel.

“Untwist your panties, Samantha. I made a friend!”

Jim was impressed at how disappointed his parallel-uncle you look.

“Dean-”

“He checked out, I slipped holy water into the.... fourth round? Yeah, that sounds about right. Can’t remember if I got his name, but damn if he couldn’t hold his own when that guy caught us card shark-ing.”

Sam only sighed.  
...

“Texting your boyfriend?” Sam smirked over his laptop.

“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s a contact!” Dean tucked his phone back into his pocket. “And he found us a case, so shut it.”

...  
...  
A/N:

Ok, so, this takes place during spn season 4. 

Mary and Ben left after Cold Oaks. That’s in May 2007. Season 4 starts in May 2008. Sam never died, and Yellow Eyes is dead thanks to Gadreel, so Dean never made a deal and went to hell. However, the hell gate never opened, and John Winchester is still in hell.

Mary was about 20-ish when she left in S3. Jim is about 20-ish here in S4.

Also, seemingly angelic things have been happening on earth, hence why Sam and Dean tried to call their only other heavenly contact, Mary (since Gadreel can’t fly, thus can’t find out what’s going on in heaven). They get Jim instead. Oh, and the seals start breaking....next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

...  
...Ch2  
...

“A Righteous man has spilt blood in hell,” Gadreel said gravely.

The Winchester men snapped to stare at the angel from their positions hunched over a country wide map draped across the desk.

“What who?”

“John Winchester.”

Jim’s legs cut out, unable to support his weight, and he crumpled to the ground. “Fuck.”

“Watch you mouth!” Dean chided, his face pale.

“Ok, Dad started the apocalypse,” Sam pressed a hand to his forehead, chest heaving. “The apocalypse. Right. Fine. Ok. What are we going to do?”

Everyone looked at the collapsed nephilim.

“I do not know,” he said, voice gravelly.  
...

After that, there seemed to be a free for all, with seals shattering to pieces like spun glass dominos.

“This is wrong,” Jim growled, forcefully placing one of Bobby’s phones back in its cradle. “The seals should not be failing this fast. The angels should be providing some resistance against the demons.”

“Unless they’re working together,” Dean said, brows furrowed. He brushed aside a stack of papers, revealing the marked up map. “If you look here, the signs of demonic activity are moving pretty regularly. Gadreel.”

The angel’s head snapped up, immediately focused.

“Where are the angel garrisons stationed to guard the seals?”

His gaze turned distant as he danced silently through the angelic radio waves, all the while silently thanking his lost friend Abner, who had taught the other angel how to listen into other conversations unnoticed, during their imprisonment. “There were orders to watch the state known as Wyoming, for it contains a devil’s gate, and they feared demonic reinforcements would break through.”

Dean scowled. “The last seal to break was in New England. Someone’s sending someone bad intel.”

“You really think they would be working together?” Sam said, expression disbelieving. 

“My parents often impressed upon me how both Michael and the denizens of hell wished for Lucifer to be freed. It appears as though any pretense against this fact has been removed.”

The tallest Winchester huffed out through his nose. “Well, what can we do?”

Jim looked down.

Dean’s expression hardened. “We can bind the last seal, make sure no one can break it.”

“What?” Sam looked taken aback.

The eldest hunter nodded to himself. “We can’t stop them breaking the other six hundred some odd seals, but none of that will matter if they can’t get the last one. But we know what the last one is, Dreel’s been hearing it all across the radio, and we can beat them to it.”

“Lilith is a powerful demon,” Gadreel cautioned. “The other angels speak of her as one they should not engage alone.”

“But if we summon her, or trick her into a trap,” Jim countered, “We can bind her before she can retaliate.”

“I’ll go call Bobby to see if he has any books on demonic sealing,” Sam said, eyes glinting, now that the group had a plan.  
...

When Jim was a child, curled against his uncle’s side and learning to read greek from the archaic musty Bibles in the bunker, he turned to the book of Revelations. His uncle had snorted when they reached the passage about the Whore of Babylon, chuckling something about Castiel and a liquor store.

The nephilim had tried to press for more information about his father’s drinking habits, but was skillfully diverted when his uncle instead explained about the aborted apocalypse, and how his parent’s met.

When Sam reached the middle of the story, concerning the prophet Chuck (who only sometimes came over for dinner, but was never allowed to bring his girlfriend), Jim frowned in confusion.

“But you are only human. How did you think you could defeat Lilith on your own?”

“I was, ah,” he trailed off self consciously. “I was being manipulated by one of Lilith’s demons, and got... given poison. It made me sick, and gave me some demonic powers.”

Jim wriggled against his uncle’s chest. “Your soul feels distressed. What happened?”

“Your mother saved me from her, but too late.” And that was all Sam would say.  
...

Despite the urgency of the apocalypse, the Winchesters did not let other hunts slip by them.

Occasionally, Jim would break from his research sessions with Bobby, or spell crafting with Gadreel (who knew a disturbing amount about binding powerful spiritual beings, having experienced most of it first hand), to join Sam and Dean on a job.

The shape shifter during Oktoberfest was easily dealt with, once Jim was able to see the oily monstrous taint on the woman in the bar’s soul. However, seeing Dean suffer through ghost sickness left the nephilim severely shaken.

By November, Team Free Will (Parallel Dimension Version) had a working trap planned out. All that remained was the bait.

“Lilith is powerful enough to resist most summonings, especially if she is warded,” Jim said, brows furrowed as he paged through a dusty tome, bound in what was most likely human skin.

“But, as far as we know, no humans have been hunting her. She may only be warded against angels,” Sam countered.

“Such warding would prevent the functioning of all but the least unwholesome demonic summoning, and I do not believe you wish to partake in the slaughter of innocents to perform a ritual which may not work.”

The tallest Winchester’s jaw tightened. “Then we could get a hold of one of her henchmen, and make them talk.”

Celestial blue met red tinted brown. “Your logic is sound, however I fear your tenacity will do more harm than you intend. Besides, we do not know any of Lilith’s associates.”

Sam’s countenance darkened. “Don’t worry, we’ll find one.”  
...

As it turned out, once the second to last seal broke, Lilith would be forced to go to St. Mary’s Church in order to open the cage. The Winchesters immediately packed their duffel bags and spell components and hopped into the Impala.

“Creepy church in Maryland. Of course,” Dean groused, as they parked the car next to the decrepit building.

Gadreel unfolded himself from the back seat, chains on his wings shaking out kings from his back. “The lay lines in this location are required for the sealing.”

“Right,” the eldest Winchester sighed, getting out and opening the trunk. Sam and Gadreel cautiously approached the building, weapons drawn to scout it out. “Where did you want this salt?”

“You and Sam should get out of here,” Jim said, easily taking the bag from his parallel-parent’s hand. “Should we fail in sealing Lilith, Lucifer will not hesitate to pursue his true vessel, through any means necessary.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here alone to keep the devil in the box. Our family started this, and we’re gonna finish it, together.”

“Abba.” Celestial blue met green. “Please. I do not wish to see you come to harm.”

The hunter gruffly hefted another bag onto his shoulder. “You’re not doing this alone.”

“I will ask Gadreel to stay.”

The Impala’s trunk slammed. “If you think I’m gonna let you do this while I just sit back in a bar somewhere, you think again.”

Jim’s aura flared as his arms lashed out, claws curled. “I am more capable than a human of completing this task. Your presence is better utilized elsewhere.”

Dean flinched back, expression wary. 

The trees shuddered in an oncoming evening breeze.

“Well.” The hunter’s voice cracked. “Tell us how you really feel.”

The nephilim deflated. “I’m-”

“No,” the hunter knocked away his hand. “You’re right. What kind of help could I be? After all, I’m only human.”

He turned towards the church. “Let’s just get this ritual set up, then Sammy and I will get out of your hair. Let you do your angel hodoo.”

They didn’t speak again, until the ritual was set up, and the Winchester brothers had left the church.

Jim locked eyes with Gadreel. “Stay with them; keep them safe.”

“Of course.” The angel nodded solemnly, and vanished from the human visual spectra to stand guard in the back of the Impala, unseen.

Arms flexing in preparation, the nephilim spun his short blade through his hands, waiting.

Lilith appeared around midnight, wearing a six year old girl covered in blood. Her eyes flashed white at the sight of him.

“Come here to kill me, little abomination?”

“No,” Jim said, and began chanting. Writing glowed along the walls, binding the demon to the earth. She screamed and thrashed, but the magic had already sunk in, holding her down.

The Winchester boy allowed himself a moment of triumph.

Too soon, as it turned out.

A strike of golden grace slammed into his chest, knocking the breath from his lunch, causing his chanting to falter. 

Jim gasped, searching for the intruder.

A tall dark haired man in a trench coat stalked into the room. He grinned toothily, eyes glowing gold. “Tisk tisk, little fledgling so far flown from home. The adults need to talk now, so shoo!”

With a flick of his wrist, the man flung Jim from the church.

“No!” the nephilim beat his fists against the wooden doors, but they held fast.

Lilith screamed within, her death throws silenced only by the cold white grace of Lucifer stretching his wings on earth for the first time in eons. 

Jim moved to shield himself, and felt the golden grace reach out and flick him like a bug three states over. The nephilim thrashed, gasping as his bruised grace tried to collect itself.

Fumbling in his pocket, he took out a phone and dialed. “Abba?” he groaned into the receiver, blinking back tears. “I messed up big time.”  
...

Gadreel tilted his head, brows furrowed. “Angel radio is full of murmurs. A seraph attempted to contact the archangel’s vessels, and was smote by Michael. The archangel himself has left Raphael in charge of keeping the choirs away from earth while he searches for Lucifer.”

“Why, though?” Sam frowned. “If this is the apocalypse and the devil’s free, why isn’t it raining fire, or something?”

Jim’s fists clenched in rhythm agitatedly. “I do not know. You both should have been contacted by the archangels, as you are their true vessels, needed for them to battle.”

“But we haven’t, which means something else is going on.”

“And apparently only the archangels know what that is.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Dreel you still have a copy of that vessel contract?” 

“Of course,” the angel said. “I imprinted a copy upon Tamone’s soul at his request before becoming my host.”

“Could you do that to us?”

“Now hold up,” Dean said, seeing where his brother was going with this. “We’re not going to let some dicks wear us to prom. No offense,” he shot at the present celestial beings.

“Why would I be offended?” Jim tilted his head marginally to the side.

The hunter shook his head. “Never mind. The point is,” he rounded on his brother, “No angel possession Sam.”

“Dean, this is the literal end of the world, and the only ones who know whats going on are the archangels. If we want a chance to stop it, we need to know!”

The hunter ran a hand over his lips. “Dreel, will that contract work on an archangel?”

The guardian hesitated for half a moment. “I do not think that it will not.”

“Comforting.” He took a deep breath. “Right, I’ll do it.”

“Dean!”

“Cram it, Samantha! If it’s a choice between Michael or the freaking Devil, you can bet your ass I’m not letting you jump in the fire! And it’s not like we can summon Raphael, we don’t even know who his vessel is!”

The tall hunter’s face morphed into a wide eyed pout. Dean rolled his eyes. “Quit it, bitch.”

“Jerk!” came the instinctive reply.

Everyone turned to the heavenly experts. “Ok, so. How do we summon an angel?”  
...

One stop to the local herb store found the two humans and two others standing in an empty barn.

Dean was throwing some herbs into a clay bowel, throwing last minute instructions at his brother. “Now, the second I say yes, you-”

“Light the oil on fire. Yes, I got it Dean.”

“Just checking,” the hunter said.

In the background, Jim looked at the recently escaped heavenly convict. “Gadreel, you might wish to be elsewhere when we summon Michael.”

“My post is here,” the guardian stated. “I shall not abandon it.”

“Right, let’s get this show on the road!” Dean crowed, and began chanting. A holy light shone upon the eldest Winchester. His eyes tracked through the air blindly, apprehension causing his expression to go slack. 

“Yeah, fine.” He ground out. “You sign it, then yes.”

The light stuttered.

Dean smirked. “Proper procedure? Dude, where’ve you been living? Now a days, informed consent is considered sexy.”

A light wind swept through the warehouse.

“It’s either this, or you’re trapped in the circle without a physical body. Besides, I thought you lot needed me for some prize fight?”

In a burning flash, the light condensed upon the eldest Winchester, causing his head to snap back with a gasp.

When he righted himself, an archangel glared out from behind his eyes.

“That is not what this is about,” he intoned.

Jim tilted his head, brows furrowed. “As I understand it, when Lucifer is released, the end of days is neigh.”

“This is not about the apocalypse!” Michael boomed. “This is about creation caving in upon its corners!” He stuttered back, frowning. “Dean informs me that raising my true voice to his child is uncalled for, and that I must apologize.”

“All is forgiven.”

The archangel’s lips twisted. “I had to speak with Lucifer, that was why we opened the cage. I had feared-” Glowing green eyes lowered. “I had feared him gone, and his grace locked away from recombining with creation.”

“What does that mean?” Sam questioned.

Dark shadows, painted by the ring of holy fire, flickered across the angel’s face. “In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth. At each corner, he placed a pillar to support the foundations of his creation. I was the first, and Raphael the last. We four by existing keep creation intact.”

“You’re talking about the four archangels.”

“Yes.”

“But you and Lucifer are trying to kill each other, how does that work?”

“The light bringer will not be extinguished upon my victory,” Michael snarled. “All that he is will be returned to whence it came, back before our Father bid us speak and gave us wings.”

Sam looked ill. “That’s sick.”

The archangel glared. “Dean informs me that I should not attempt to smite you for your insolence. Be grateful your brother loves you almost as much as I do mine.”

“Does Lucifer know anything?” Jim pressed.

“I tried to explain to him, to discover if he was somehow the cause for the decay, but he flees at the sight of me. He will not face me until he has his true vessel.”

A constipated expression crossed he archangel’s features. “Dean wishes to make it vehemently known that he does not support any course of action that ends with my brother taking Samuel as a vessel.”

Sam quirked a brow. “And you can’t do anything Dean doesn’t want.”

Michael’s teeth ground audibly. “Not if unless I wish to be ejected from this vessel, no.”

The once-lawyer smirked. “Well, tell Dean that I’m doing this. The contract obviously works on archangels, and creation breaking down does not sound like a time to be stubborn.”

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> My favorite thing to do, it seems, is to turn Dean into a general....because there is not enough fic with Dean leading an army.
> 
> Also, no dead dean, no demon blood for Sam!
> 
> Anna get’s introduced to cannon November 7th. She never comes up in the story here, because 1) that’s when TFW launches their plan to capture Lilith, and 2) Heaven and Hell are a bit preoccupied to worry about one rogue angel.
> 
> Also, they’re supposed to meet Chuck a bit before April, but that never happens either. The Supernatural books were banned from ever being mentioned in Deanna’s household, so Jim doesn’t know about them.


	3. Chapter 3

“We sure this is gonna work?” Sam said, as he set out a bowel of herbs and blood.

“My brother will respond, if you are the one to summon him, Samuel Winchester.”

The taller man’s face twisted. “It’s just Sam.”

Michael’s stoic intensity looked out of place on Dean’s naturally passionate face. The angel blinked. “Dean has informed me of my mistake. I apologize,” the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He struck a match, pausing for a moment to hold it over the bowel. “Well, here goes nothing.” 

The archangel grimaced and turned to Gadreel. “Dean insists that I ‘juice you up’ before we continue.” Michael waved a hand. “You are released.”

Jim looked at Gadreel, just in time to see the heavenly chains shatter upon the general’s pronouncement. The angel’s wings shuddered and stretched, no longer hobbled together with celestial manacles.

“Thank you,” the prisoner breathed, inclining his head.

“It was not of my own volition, I assure you,” Michael sneered. He turned back to Sam and raised an eyebrow. “May we proceed?”

“Oh, uh, right.” The tallest Winchester fumbled with the match, and dropped it in the bowel as he chanted.

Michael’s scowl deepened as white light enveloped the other vessel.

Sam’s mouth twisted. “Uh, yeah. Hi.” Red tinted eyes traced the air. “Yes, all right? Yes.”

Grace condensed behind the taller Winchester’s eyes. The devil blinked and grimaced. “Ugg, this vessel feels so,” he shuddered, “Clean! Where can I get some demon blood?”

Michael winced as Dean began cursing vehemently in his mind. From the look on his brother’s face, Sam was treating Lucifer to the same diatribe. 

Brown eyes met green in a mutual sharing of pain, before the brothers realized exactly who they were looking at. The atmosphere tensed.

“Michael.”

“Lucifer.”

“So,” the Morningstar leaned back on his borrowed hips. “Here we are.”

“I am not here to fight you, brother,” the archangel ground out. 

“I didn’t think you were, what with everything going down the drain like it is. I could feel it even in the cage.” His eyes turned sharp. “Which you opened to see if I had stopped doing my job out of spite.”

“There is a vacuum of power, and all of creation is rushing to fill the void.” Michael said, green gazed focused on his brother. “The House of Our Father is crumbling. I had no other avenue to search.”

The devil looked down his nose. “It’s not like I can stop existing on purpose, though you’re right, after the first few thousand years I might have if I could. But no, I’m not the one doing this.”

Michael growled, taking a threatening step forwards. “I cannot trust your words.”

“There is no point to our fighting, if there is nothing left for me to rule after I win,” Lucifer scoffed. “So if you can’t trust me, trust my motivation.”

“Shut up, bitch.” Michael raised a hand to his mouth, as if befuddled by it’s moving without his permission.

“Jerk,” the devil shot back, equally confused.

The archangels shared a heavy look.

“Perhaps the lock has sprung loose?”

Lucifer shook his head grimly. “I entrusted the Mark to Cain, and he still lives.”

“We should never the less check,” Michael cut in. “Perhaps the Darkness has found a way to evade our defenses.”

“This reminds me of old times. You, me, running across the universe like headless chickens cleaning up supernatural messes. All that’s missing is our hunt for Father.”

A lesser glare than the one the eldest archangel directed at his brother had turned many a lesser being onto ash.

“Still, it’s worth a shot,” the Morningstar shrugged, smirking. His eyes flickered sideways to his brother. “We would need to stand beside the throne. All of us.”

Deans green eyes swirled, softening with borrowed grace, which ran much deeper than the edges of time. “I will inform Raphael to meet us there.”

The devil claims to run cold, but in that instant he froze completely, unable to move even a feather upon his thousand wings at his brother’s proclamation. 

“...Truly?” His voice had not cracked like that since he was less than half a thought of celestial intent.

The general’s wings curved forwards minutely, in an instinct which, though long unused, remained never the less remembered. “Yes. Let us go home.”

Together the archangels leapt into the ether, Lucifer half a beat behind Michael, as they ascended into heaven. The duo soared through the pearly gates, turning the heads of the host as they passed. Some cried out in terror, others in wonder, more still in nameless awe.

A mote of lightening joined their flight, cautiously playing along the slipstream of its brothers, like it had not in eons.

For the first time since the Fall, the archangels gathered in the heart of the garden of heaven, each positioning themselves at a different focal point around the throne.

The very air molecules glowed and refracted with crystalline rainbows, as each raised their wings and arms to take up the burden of creation. The three corners writhed with power, and for a moment the angel’s features were overlaid with great stone coulombs and the garden arched overhead in the image of a cathedral, whose walls encompassed the confines of the creation.

All save one.

The fourth corner sagged, unsupported, pulling the roof down into the vacuous abyss.

The three archangels gaped.

“What is this?” Lucifer thundered. “Where is Gabriel?”

“Gabriel vanished thousands of years ago,” Raphael whispered. “We believed him dead.”

“Even his death could not cause this.” Lucifer indicated the hole in reality.

“But the decay would have been noticed if it began upon his vanishing,” Michael said. “This is new, no more than three earth revolutions around the sun.”

Raphael nodded. “But how have we not noticed it before now? The instant our sibling vanished, creation should have begun to slip into the abyss, not piled up as it has.”

“Look here,” Lucifer interrupted. He indicated a golden mist hovering like a dusty shadow. “This tastes of Gabriel’s grace. It’s what has been keeping the Darkness at bay.”

Michael and Raphael zeroed in on the florescent shadow. 

“I cannot see where it leads,” Raphael said.

Lucifer hummed. “I recognize that warding; it’s based off of what I used to shield my forces during the battle before the Fall. No angel can penetrate it.”

“Yeah, that was really annoying,” Michael groused. Lucifer looked smug.

“I can see where it goes,” Jim chimed in. When the archangels took off, Gadreel had discreetly followed, the youngest Winchester in tow.

Miles of eyes turned down to him. 

“Then it looks as though you must be the one to go, little nephilim,” Michael said.

“But.” Jim clenched his fists. “I cannot fly.”

“What does that have to do with moving through creation?” Lucifer scoffed. “Even a human soul can move through the veil. Use those arms of yours and climb!”

With a beat of his wings, the archangel blew the nephilim down against the curl of grace. 

Jim screamed, claws futilely scraping for a perch against the glassy slide as he tumbled head over heels towards the earth.  
...

.................  
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	4. Chapter 4

...Ch4  
...

Jim groaned. His fingers, all of them, pulsed in time with his aching grace, the sharp claws ripped off from his slide through the universe to... He cracked open his eyes.

The dusty ceiling of a barn arched over head, metal panels peppered with cobwebs. He blinked again, and his eyes refocused on the foreground, where a mouth of grinning white teeth shone.

The nephilim attempted to flinch back, but his body weighed him down.

Above the smile, a pair of blue eyes interspersed with gold crinkled.

“You had quite a fall there, sonny Jim. I wouldn’t try to strain yourself just yet.”

“F-father?” the nephilim gasped. “No, you, you-re-”

The body of Jimmy Novak rocked back on his heels. “Yeah, I’m not entirely the angel Castiel anymore. You could probably tell from~.” He waved over his shoulder at the parasitic gold permeating his once blue wings.

“Gabriel?”

The dark haired being patted his cheek. “Strong and clever, just like your parents! I knew you would figure it out eventually. Do your old man proud!”

Jim wrestled himself from the floor into a less than vertical position. “How?”

“I’m more Gabriel than I am Castiel,” the man grinned like a knife wound. “An archangel’s grace is real potent, and using a bit on the memories of a seraph, who had less of his own thoughts to fill a thimble... well, they say a starfish can grow back more than half of its body when all cut up!”

Jim tilted his head. “You are quite mad.”

“As a hatter!”

The nephilim slowly climbed to his feet, three arms clutching at the curtain of reality to keep his footing. “What do I call you?”

“Just call me Cab Calloway, kid.”

Jim’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand that reference.”

‘Cab’ rolled his eyes. “And I’m sure your mother weeps from shame.”

The nephilim breathed, reordering the wavelengths of his grace, like shuffling a pack of cards. “You are what is keeping the void back.”

“Right in one!”

“Do you know what is happening?”

“It’s all thermodynamics. When an angel dies, their grace scatters to reinforce the firmament of creation. An archangel is a lot of energy, and when that much energy sidesteps out of dodge for too long, the universe tries to fill up the void.” Cab rolled his wings back in a languid stroke. “Then ta-da! You get fun little cracker-Jack prizes like me, trying their best to keep the world from imploding!”

“Do you know where Gabriel is?”

“Nope! Last I saw him, he was sweeping away with that pretty little winged girl who wasn’t from this dimension. Her grace very much resembled my own, which means she’s probably my daughter, and ~ oh! Bad thoughts, Bad thoughts!” he began beating his hand against his forehead.

“Hey, stop it!” Jim said, catching his flailing fists.

The dark haired man pulled free from the nephilim’s grip. “Right, business, yeah. No, I dunno where he is. Not anywhere in this plane, at least.”

A dark thought prodded the nephilim’s mind.

He thought on the strange folds in reality specifically tailored to avoid the notice of celestial beings, which his sister had insisted were a side project he shouldn’t concern himself with. He recalled her poorly hidden joy upon returning home, and the long hours she had vanished from everyone’s senses. He remembered her blushing when Deanna asked if she had a boyfriend.

Jim’s stomach dropped, and six of his hands began shaking. “I believe I know where this world’s Gabriel is.”

“He must return here.” Cab’s manic countenance extinguished under a looming blue cloud of duty. “I am too unstable to bare the duties of an archangel indefinitely.”

Blue met forced hazel. “I must return to my home universe.”

Cab hummed in a parody of thoughtfulness. “To send you home, I would have to divert the grace I’m using to keep the Darkness back. Things will get very, very messy over here.”

“Can’t another angel take me instead?”

Cab closed his eyes and raised a finger. “Hear that?”

Jim listened, but shook his head. 

Gold eyes focused to a laser point. “That is the sound of Michael and Lucifer calling every angel, both fallen and not, to help brace the ceiling of creation. Even little Gadreel’s been given right to pass, my, my.”

Cab’s grin broke no humor. “So while an archangel would usually delegate universe hopping to one of the rabble, that option’s not available to us at the moment.”

“Couldn’t we contact one of them?”

“I would just love to see how that conversation would play out! ‘Hey Mike, my sister had the hots for your brother, and accidentally kidnapped him!’ I’m sure Lucy would be thrilled too.”

He cackled, and cut off suddenly grim. “No. If you tell the others, they will send a legion of lesser angels to fetch Gabriel. And if I know myself well, Gabriel will not respond well to being coerced. No, it has to be me and you.”

“I getting tired of hearing people tell me that,” Jim deadpanned. 

Cab grinned toothily. “Get used to it kid.”  
...

Jim stumbled into the bunker’s kitchen. The hollow ache of grace being leached from the core of his being greeted him. He was home.

“Mary?” he called. The bunker echoed hollowly, empty.

His brows drew together in frustration. Breathing slowly, the nephilim stretched his senses as far as he could. 

Below, Deanna slumped beside her husband’s bed, clutching his cold hand in hers. The seraph’s being flickered in an attempt at comfort, but not longer had the strength to open its vessel’s eyes. The woman’s soul wept in solitude.

Above in the fields outside, a collection of less than human appearing transgenics basked in the sunlight, trying to stifle their worry over their leader’s dying family. Some harbored tiny curls of grace within their bodies, and whispered to their angelic guests optimistic words of gratitude and promises of protection.

There, down the hall near the storage locker, a wrinkle in space.

Jim ran, skidding to a stop beside the anomaly. His claws, still ripped from falling from heaven, dug into the wrinkle. It shuddered amidst his assaulting grace, but held tight.

“Gabriel.” His lips pulled back as he snarled. “I know that you are here, that you have left your own universe for this one. Speak to me, or I shall scream, and all of heaven will heed my call.”

The wrinkle shuddered and pulled back like a curtain.

“It’s not like this heaven is up to doing much, what with it’s batteries drained,” the golden eyed archangel snarked, holding open a door which had not been there a moment before. He stood in what appeared to be an entryway to a five star hotel, complete with chocolate fountain and jacuzzi. A bed, lumpy with feather blankets and pillows, took up most of the far corner.

“They would still be enough to hinder your attempts at living unmolested here,” the young man snarked, shouldering his way into the twisted pocket of space.

“I’m not going back,” Gabriel said, amber eyes cool as he shut the door behind him. 

Jim set his jaw, rounding on the celestial being. “Your absence has left a vacuum of power, which your universe is trying to fill.”

“I never asked to be a pillar of creation!” The archangel snarled. “What does it matter anyway? Michael and Lucifer are going to flambé that place.”

“There is a difference between destroying a planet, and crumbling a plateau of existence. Also, the battle between the eldest angels is not assured.”

“Yeah, because it worked out so well for me here!” He flung out his arms. “I died in this universe! I can feel the charred remains of parallel-me’s grace seeping back into the fabric of the world, because even when there’s nothing let of Gabriel, I’m still not allowed to take a break! No, it’s ‘Gabriel why hasn’t Dad spoken to you in so long?’, ‘Gabriel pick a side and kill half of your family!’, ‘Gabriel stop babying the younger garrisons!’, ‘Gabriel, hold the weight of the world on your shoulders!’ Well I’m sick of it!”

He rounded on the stoic nephilim. “I’m happy here! No one’s fighting, and the only one who wants anything from me I would do anything to give! But, oh wait, if I do I’ll burn her existence to a crisp, because that’s how the big man upstairs made me!” The archangel snarled at the ceiling. “Thanks for that one Dad!”

“You don’t sound completely happy,” Jim commented.

“Well at least I have something!” Gabriel threw himself back onto the couch. “So, no, I’m not going back there. They can rot for all I care!”

“From what I understand, what will actually happen to them will be much worse.”

“Well, bully for them!” Power shifted along the archangel’s wings, arching high and threatening. “Why does it even matter to you? That place? It’s not your home. So why can’t you just leave me alone here? I’m not hurting anyone.”

“No.” Realization broke through the buzzing cloud of the half mortal’s mind. “No, you can’t be here either. You’re killing all of us too. You’re killing Mary.”

“You shut your cake hole!”

Jim took a step forward into the archangel’s space. “This universe is also shifting from your presence, Gabriel. In one realm you have left a vacuum, and here you have caused a plague! You are the reason why our grace cannot be replenished, because the universe is trying to compensate for the excess grace added here by your presence! If you do not leave, then every angel here will fall.”

A groan sounded from inside the bed’s nest of pillows.

“Jim?” A muzzy voice sounded from inside the room.

Gabriel turned, golden eyes wide. “Mary, you should be resting.”

The woman rolled her eyes, emphasizing the dark circles beneath. “I’m fine.” She attempted to get out of the bed, but settled for propping herself up against the headboard.

“Sister?” Jim craned his neck.

“Hey bro,” she breathed. “Back from parts unknown?”

“Only temporarily. It is of utmost importance that I return with Gabriel.”

Her eyes closed. “...yeah, I heard. Guess I screwed up bringing home souviners without going through customs first.” She laughed weakly. “So, when are we leaving?”

“Mary.” Gabriel slid to her side, hands hovering over her shoulders, as if they were spun from glass. “You can’t leave here.”

“It’s ok,” Mary soothed, leaning close to the archangel. “You won’t be alone. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

“No, I-” his voice cracked. Gabriel pressed his face into her hair. “You’ll die if you stay in my dimension. You don’t have enough grace to sustain yourself forever away from your universe.”

“I’ll still die if you stay, and I’ll wish I had if you leave. That’s what being mortal is about; picking how you want to spend your limited days.”

“But you are not mortal.”

Mary hummed. “People in my family have a habit of falling for love.”

The archangel pulled away from her, and pressed his face into his palms. The woman reached for him, but he curled in on himself, shrinking from her touch.

“Gabriel?” She tried to lift herself out of the bed again, but the archangel pressed two fingers to her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Mary’s eyes fluttered, and she fell asleep.

Golden eyes turned to Jim, who hadn’t moved from his spot by the door.

“Fine, you win.” The archangel spread his wings. Just before he leapt into the ether between space, Jim caught the edges of his grace and held fast, letting himself be dragged along for the ride.

They landed back in the barn.

Dazed, Jim took a few steps back from the angel, and leaned against the wall while he caught his breath. The power he had exerted trying to break into Gabriel’s pocket dimension had been extensive, and he was not yet recovered.

Two pairs of more or less gold eyes locked in an electric stare.

The blonde whistled. “Woah, it’s like looking into a tiny fun house mirror.”

Cab stared at the archangel, eyes brimming with sorrowful disappointment. “I’m sure such a mirror would make you appear much less twisted.”

“Ouch, right here, mini-me.” He patted his chest over the heart.

“I am only what I’ve been forced to become.”

Gold met gold. “Yeah, about that, thanks for holding down the fort.”

“Someone had to. I have not abandoned this creation, nor my duty to it.”

The shorter figure flashed his teeth, humorously. “Then you won’t mind if I dump a bit more on you then.”

A silver sword flashed between the archangel’s fingers. Before Jim or Cab could react, it stabbed down.

Gabriel screamed, as he carved out his grace. Arms pulled, prying, tearing at the pillar of light in his chest. His faces screamed as he broke them off by their necks, arms pulled themselves from their joints with crackling bloody tugs. The forests of his wings were burned, and the remaining roots ripped from the firmament of his being, dragging great clumps of grace with them to the earth.

The fragments conglomerated like mercury, writhing, screaming, searching. Like steel filings to a magnet, the discarded archangel’s essence flowed, stuttering, to the next best recipient.

Cab gasped as faces sewed themselves into his flesh, and metaphorical bones dislocated to allow for new limbs to sprout. Blue wisps snuffed out under waves of gold, forced to bend in compliance to the stronger force or be extinguished.

Jim felt disgust crawl along his being, and he gagged at the terrible sight taking place before him. An angel’s grace was their power, true, but it was also their very being. To see it wielded by another angel was the human equivalent of wearing another’s skin. 

Gabriel collapsed onto the floor, vessel empty, save for enough grace to fire the neurons and work the muscles at a mortal capacity. He gasped, lungs working out of desperation instead of pleasure.

Harsh hacking sounds, which might have been the jagged remains of broken laughter, cut themselves from the man’s throat. “I couldn’t even just kill myself and throw the plug back in the corner. Nope, I had to try and save the thing that’s Gabriel.”

Cab looked down at the two more-or-less humans, his spiritual frame now towering towards the crest of heaven. Golden wings shifted ponderously, testing the control of new metaphorical muscles and limbs.

The conglomeration of archangel grace lifted one of its hands, fingers poised in a practiced motion it had never personally performed. It snapped, and the hysteric blonde vanished.

“Where did you send him?” Jim asked, unable to look directly at the thing which once resembled his father.

“He was the part of me that loved in all the ways an angel shouldn’t.” Cab’s growling voice shook the windows. He cleared his throat and spoke again, with less declaration. “I sent him where he wanted most to be.”

“To Mary.”

“Yes.” Eyes, with the faintest hint of muddy green nearly drowned by the gold, peered at him. “Would you like for me to send you home as well?”

The nephilim took a breath to calm his grace, and managed to look at the terrifying thing head on. “No. I will see through the task I set for myself. Sam and Dean might still need me.”

“Your resolution inspires much appreciation.”

“I am informed I take after my parents in that regard.”

A complicated wiggle of emotion shuddered down the newly assimilated archangel’s wings, causing his feathers to rattle a half shade closer to blue. “I am pleased that something of what I was remains.”

Something slipped down Jim’s cheek, and he pressed a hand to his face in time to catch the drop of moisture before it fell. He glanced at his fingers uncomprehendingly, and wiped them dry on his shirt. 

He looked back at the angel. “As am I.”  
...


	5. Chapter 5

...Ch5  
...

“Robert James.”

The gravely tone stilled the nephilim’s hands. Carefully putting down the ancient book, lest he incur the wrath of a certain grizzled old hunter, Jim turned.

Standing in the middle of Bobby’s library stood his father, blue wing settling against his back after a long flight.

The nephilim’s mouth gaped like a fish, before he croaked. “I didn’t think you would be able to find me in the multiverse.”

“I have more experience transversing planes than your sister.” Castiel’s lips twitched upwards as his grace reached out in greeting like an embrace. “What have you been doing in this dimension that has taken up so much of your time?”

Words couldn’t make their way through Jim’s constricted throat, but he hoped his expression and the way he clung to the angel’s untarnished wings conveyed his state of mind.

Father and son eventually settled on the couch in the living room of the empty house, and Jim took a breath to make his report.

After Cab’s assimilation of Gabriel’s grace, he returned to the garden with Jim, where he fitted himself into the sagging corner of creation to hold back the Darkness. The three other archangels were disgusted by his existance, and more so by the lengths Gabriel had gone to free himself from them.

“Why didn’t he say something?” Michael raged, green eyes flaring fire.

“He did,” Raphael said softly.

Lucifer scoffed, cold wings wrapped tightly around himself. “For being the Messenger, he was never good at making himself heard.”

“He wanted to be looked for.” Cab ponderously rolled grace imprinted memories around his shoulders. “He wanted his absence to be enough to bring his family back together.”

“Silence!” Michael snarled. “We should just kill you now, abomination, and let Gabriel’s grace free to maintain creation without you!”

“Oh, shut up, Michael,” Lucifer sighed. One of his clawed hands ghosted over the wavering gold grace in Cab’s wings. “He didn’t ask to be turned into this; he just decided to shoulder the burden.”

“For the greater good,” Raphael said, neutrally.

Jim could practically hear Sam and Dean chorus mockingly, ‘The Greater Good.’ From the constipated expressions on two of the archangels’s faces, so could they.

The eldest angel’s eyes lowered. “Nothing in creation asked to be made.” He ran a hand over his mouth in an adopted gesture of his vessel. “I suppose he can stay in existence, on a trial period.” He rounded on the almagamation of grace. “But if you take so much as one step out of line, I will be there with my blade to stop you. You are not Gabriel, you are simply the fourth archangel.”

Cab nodded demurly. “I understand.”

“Good.” Michael straightened up gruffly. “See that you don’t forget...brother,” he said, before winging away.

Lucifer patted Cab’s dark hair, before following. The two eldest archangels had a lot to talk about.

Raphael lingered long enough to shoot him a hesitant smile. “I have extensive experience being the youngest of the archangels, should you wish for guidance.”

Mostly gold eyes softened. “Than you.”

The heavenly healer inclined his head, and vanished.

Jim waited a moment to ensure that they were gone, before plucking at the end of Cab’s wings. “How long do you think it will take for them to let Sam and Dean go?”

“Knowing those two knuckleheads?” Cab’s lips twitched. “A week, tops.”

Turns out it only took five days, before the archangels abandoned their vessels back on earth. Bobby cursed up a storm when the brothers appeared with no warning in he middle of his junk yard.

Dean rolled his eyes at the old hunter’s antics, before enfolding Jim in a hug. “I saw what you look like while being Mike’s prom dress. Those claws are badass!”

The nephilim patted his back stiffly, not quite sure how to respond.

Currently the brothers and Bobby were hunting some kind of triple haunting, or possibly witches, which was why Jim was alone at the junkyard to man he phones now.

Castiel hummed at the completion of his son’s story. “Gabriel informed us of his perspective of events. It lines up with what you have reported.”

“He revealed himself to the household?”

“Yes. He asked your mother for permission to court your sister.”

“How did she respond?”

“She didn’t. I believe her exact words were ‘let him sweat’.”

Jim pondered over the turn of phrase’s lack of realistic imagery, before deciding that the sentiment was accurate enough. “And the host?”

“Once the archangel left, balance was restored, and our grace replenished itself. Your mother insisted that I find you,” Castiel said, wings brushing affectionately against his son’s shoulders. “She was very worried when you went missing.”

“I apologize for any distress I caused.”

“All is forgiven. You were only rectifying the mistakes wrought by your sister, who I have been informed is grounded until the next apocalypse.”

Jim breathed out, sagging from his stiff posture like a balloon. “I would very much like to go home now.”   
...

Castiel insisted on observing the social nicety of bidding farewell to this dimension’s version of the Winchester clan, it having been beaten into him by his wife over the decades.

The hunters promised to return by the end of the week to see Jim off, so father and son spend a domestic few days reading in Bobby’s library. 

Cab appeared some time in the middle of the third day. He and Castiel stared unblinkingly at one another long enough for even Jim to become uncomfortable. Eventually, the seraph inclined his head to the newly instated archangel.

“Your sacrifice will not go unremembered,” he rumbled.

The other’s face was uncharacteristically slack, manic grin tucked away under momentary seriousness. Gold wings sifted together, parsing words. “Are you happy with the choices you’ve made?”

Blue grace swirled like storm clouds, brushing Jim’s shoulders affectionately. “As much as beings like us are capable of, yes. Though I do not think it too late for you to achieve such an end for yourself.”

The archangel tilted his head to the side, sharp teeth beginning to peak through his lips, in a much softer expression than Jim had ever seen on his face. 

Cab didn’t leave, but he didn’t overtly interact with the one and a half other celestial beings in the house. Instead he...watched. Castiel didn’t mind, so Jim tried to ignore the sharp prickle of almost green eyes on the back of his neck too.

As it turned out, a week absence was much too long for a worried mother and recovering almost-widow to stand, because the day before Sam and the others were due to return from their hunt, Deanna blustered into the dimension with a contingent of angels on her heels.

“Where have you been?” She scowled, trying her best to press her son back into her heart, with how tightly she was hugging him.

“Hello mom,” the nephilim gasped into the older woman’s shoulder, grateful that he was less in need of oxygen than standard humans.

“We are waiting for Jim’s friends to return, so that we might bid them farewell before leaving,” Castiel said, smoothly accepting his wife as she transferred her embrace to him. Her arms shook minutely, as if remembering how close she was to losing that which she now held.

“I was worried.” 

“I know. I apologize for causing you distress.”

Deanna cleared her throat and pulled back, wiping a hand over her lips. “Call or something next time. I was about ready to dig up an army to raid this place, if you guys had gotten stuck or something.”

Behind her several angels, including Sariel and Remiel, waved in casual greeting. Atropos, stoic as ever, merely adjusted her glasses.

The huntress took a steadying breath. “Right. Ok.” She turned to the other dark haired figure in the room. Cab blinked at having the weight of Deanna’s full attention rest upon him. “And this must be parallel-Cas then.”

“...They call me Cab.”

She huffed out half a laugh, and in two short strides had him in an embrace as well. “Whatever, you’re family.”

The archangel floundered with where to put his hands, before finally settling for having them hover just over the woman’s shoulders. “Nice to meet you too?” He tried.

Deanna laughed.  
...

The garrison of angels was returned to their home dimension, and the family of three, plus Cab, settled down to a nice evening of watching movies on Bobby’s tiny old TV.

The next morning, the Impala pulled into the junkyard. 

Deanna was standing on the porch, arms crossed over her chest, while the boys got out of the vehicle. 

Green eyes met green.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Dean held up a hand, dropping his duffle bag. “In your universe, I’m a chick?”

The huntress raised an eyebrow, arms ponderously crossing over her chest, like a stretching panther. “You got a problem with that?”

He snapped to attention. “No ma’am!”

She smirked. “Good.”

Jim breathed out a small sigh of relief. He rather liked Dean, but wouldn’t put it past his mother to make it so her parallel-self became incapable of reproduction in payment for a misspoken comment.

After that, the group decided to eat one last meal together, before parting ways. Sam alternated between laughing at his brother’s parallel life being married to an angel, and casting ponderously soft eyes at Dean and Cab, who spent most of the evening trading shots with Deanna and Cas (or rather, the humans drank, and the angels kept watch over possible alcohol poisoning).

By night fall, the humans were thoroughly exhausted, and Castiel gathered his family into his arms to fly home.

Sam and Dean saluted them with a couple of beers as they vanished. The younger Winchester yawned, and headed inside to crash in the spare bedroom, but the elder lingered.

He took a sip from his drink.

“So, Cab,” Dean hesitated. “Can I still call you that?” 

The angel smiled, barely a quirk of his lips, though his countenance lit more brightly than the sun. “Of course, that is the name I have chosen for myself.”

The hunter smiled too. “So, word on the radio is you’re all that’s keeping the world from collapsing in on itself.”

“It is a team effort, I assure you.”

“Still, that’s pretty awesome. Sounds like a full time job.”

“The hours are flexible.”

“Awesome. Hey-”

“I really need a drink,” the newly-instated archangel said.

Dean grinned. “I has been one of those Thursdays, hasn’t it. Want to see how long it takes for them to kick us out of a bar?”

Cab’s teeth flashed sharply, too wide for comfort, with a just there touch of tenderness keeping the madness back. “Sounds like a plan, Stan!”

...

End!

For realzies this time.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : Jim is at the very least quite high on the asburger’s scale.
> 
> Also, yes, I totally stole the whole “can’t live away from your own world without getting sick” from the Amber Spyglass.
> 
> It’s totally my headcannon that Michael and Luci, before the Fall, lifed a Sam and Dean esc life. So, like, God went missing, and the two archangels go off on an adventure following clues, like season one in cannon, then the Mark slowly corrupts Lucifer. Then instead of Sam Killing Lilith, Luci Falls. And Michael can’t forgive him.


End file.
